


star seven four

by gigantic



Category: Hockey RPF
Genre: Anal Sex, Established Relationship, First Kiss, Friendship/Love, Holding Hands, M/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-01-01
Updated: 2017-01-01
Packaged: 2018-09-11 14:44:44
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 8,254
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/8988616
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/gigantic/pseuds/gigantic
Summary: Zach’s the person that Dylan wants to speak to most.





	

**Author's Note:**

  * For [loveforhockey](https://archiveofourown.org/users/loveforhockey/gifts).



> Heads up: There are a few references to the funeral for Zach's grandfather because it happened so close to the Detroit game, but this doesn't presume to know specifics around his death or dwell on details.
> 
> Thanks to M for her help!

Zach’s parents give him a cell phone on his twelfth birthday for emergencies. Dylan follows him upstairs after Zach reads all his cards out loud and thanks his family, leaving his mom to cut cake and pass it out. Facing each other on Zach’s bed, Dylan says, “ _Finally_. I won’t call until the night sometimes, when it’s free, but we can text.”

“Will that cost money, too?” Zach asks. He doesn’t exactly frown, but Dylan takes note of the way his eyebrows pinch, like his face is on its way to being too concerned.

“You said they got you the same plan that I have, right? I have unlimited texting.”

Zach looks down at his phone, considering it for another moment. “Okay,” he says and types. Dylan’s phone buzzes. The message reads, simply, “Hi it’s me. =)” 

“Oh, no, you’re an equal-sign-for-eyes guy,” Dylan says. He smiles at the way Zach looks immediately confused.

“What’s wrong with that?”

“Colons only, man.”

“The equals looks better.”

“No way.”

“It looks happier.” Zach says this one notch above the volume he’s usually at when he speaks, so Dylan knows the debate is on. 

Neither convinces the other. Zach stubbornly ends all of his messages to Dylan with his version of a smiley face for a week straight, and Dylan chuckles every single time. It starts to make him think of the way that Zach actually smiles with his mouth closed but eyes widening a little, brighter. Maybe Zach smiles every time he types out the emoticon and sends a message. For some reason that seems nice to Dylan. 

He likes having a way to talk to Zach all the time. They see each other often. Dylan’s used to sharing locker rooms with him, setting their smelly gear side-by-side, but Zach’s the person that Dylan wants to speak to most even when he’s away from the rink.

If he made a list, Dylan would rank being able to text and call Zach’s cell phone often at number three. Being around Zach during hockey practice or games is easily number one. Number two is any time they get to hang out outside of that. 

Dylan enjoys a pretty optimal Thursday when he texts Zach during school, gets to see him at practice later, and then goes home with Zach afterward so that Dylan’s dad can pick him up once he’s finished making some deliveries in the area that night. 

Zach finishes his homework quicker than Dylan does, both because he has less of it and because the music on the video game he starts playing keeps pulling Dylan’s attention away. He watches Zach stare at his Game Boy in concentration, lying on his back and holding it above his face.

“You’re gonna drop that right on your nose.”

“No, I’m not,” Zach says without averting his gaze. 

“I’m gonna laugh,” Dylan says, and Zach finally glances over at him. His lips are stretched in a slight smile. Dylan thinks of the texting, of Zach’s ridiculous smiley face choices — of how much he likes Zach’s smile. He doesn’t do it as much when they’re at practice, serious about the work they need to do, but he laughs at Dylan’s locker room speeches before games and more when it’s just them.

“Finish your history, slacker.” Zach nudges Dylan’s arm and goes back to his game. Dylan bends his leg to bump Zach with his knee and just leaves it there when Zach hardly responds. He keeps waiting for Zach to complain that it’s uncomfortable, but he doesn’t.

Dylan’s eventually able to shove his books aside a half hour later. He rolls onto his back and watches Zach play his game, suggesting ways to evade an enemy or pointing out the treasures Zach should get before he moves ahead. The screen is small enough that Dylan has to scoot as close as possible. He rests his head against Zach’s shoulder. Zach still smells a little like the cold outdoors and the soap in the rink bathroom that Dylan’s pretty sure comes standard in every public place. There’s something else underneath those that he can never name but always associates with being distinctly Zach. 

They lie together until Zach gets frustrated, repeatedly dying on screen in the same place. He sets the Game Boy down and asks, “Want to watch something?”

The TV in his room isn’t connected to the cable, but they can play movies. Dylan feels a rush of cool air as Zach pulls away to pick a DVD and get everything started. There’s more space between them when he returns. The gap isn’t huge, but it’s wide enough that their arms don’t touch. Dylan’s eyes keep dropping to map the inches between their pinkies on the blue comforter. 

He could reach out and touch Zach in less than a second. Picturing the move kicks up his heartbeat. The thud builds until it’s undeniable, and Dylan swallows against the sensation that it’s climbing up his throat. Zach’s door is open. Watching “Ocean’s Eleven” is easily the least stressful thing he’s done all week, and yet he suddenly can’t contain the buzzing in his body.

Zach turns his hand up partway into the film. Dylan misses a good few minutes of dialogue obsessing over the round tips of his fingers, wondering how it would feel to touch them with his own. He misses when curiosity gets the best of him, and there’s nowhere to go but bump down, covering Zach’s palm and letting his fingers slip between the spaces. He hears Zach’s breath stutter. From the way the bed moves, Dylan knows that Zach must look over, but Dylan can’t do anything but stare down the length of the bed. His heart is going to push out of his throat any second now. Zach is about to see Dylan literally cough up his heart on the mattress, and he hopes their friendship survives it. 

But — Zach doesn’t let go. That’s the only thing that helps Dylan swallow again.

Zach crooks his fingers until the tips touch Dylan’s knuckles. Dylan squeezes tighter for a moment, an answer, and spends the rest of the movie wriggling to the side gradually until his head bumps Zach’s shoulder again. 

It’s a good thing that he’s seen Danny Ocean and his team pull off this heist multiple times already. 

They’re interrupted by Brad yelling, “Dinner’s ready!” 

Zach gently untangles his hand. Their eyes finally catch when they get up to head downstairs, and Dylan’s tongue sticks in his throat. 

“Uh,” Zach says, but the sound lingers in the air, unconnected. If he has something to say, it gets caught for him, too. His mouth quirks to one side, and he gestures toward the door. Lead the way.

Dylan ducks his head. For all the nerves, it’s a late surge of giddiness that crashes through him now that’s truly almost too much. His palm is clammy and somehow it’s rewarding. He’s lighter throughout the meal than he felt at the start of the movie. 

“Want to play Super Smash Bros?” Brad asks, swallowing pasta.

Dylan wants to figure out if there’s a way to subtly reach for Zach again, but he settles for saying, “Yeah, sure.”

They push each other down to the basement after plates are cleared. Dylan doesn’t get to touch Zach again for the next hour, and then Dylan’s dad comes knocking to take him home. The goodbye hug he gets from Zach feels somehow bigger than usual, even though he only held Zach’s hand. It sticks with him for the whole ride home. While his dad runs down tomorrow’s schedule, Dylan folds his hands together in his lap in the dark of the car and recalls the way Zach inhaled sharply.

He thinks about Zach while he showers, while he brushes his teeth, while he puts on his pajamas and climbs into bed. He gets up again to grab his cell phone from his backpack and double checks the time before he dials through.

“Hi,” Zach says after the third ring. “You made it back?” 

“Yeah. Can you still talk?”

“For a few minutes.”

He should say something about earlier, he thinks, but he can’t find the words. He doesn’t want to talk about it as much as he wants a redo. 

“Is Brad still mad that I kicked his butt at Smash Bros?” Dylan asks.

Zach says, “Man, he went on about a rematch for so long after you left.” 

He likes having Zach in his ear, quiet and close like they’re still lying next to each other. They talk until Dylan dozes off.

**

Ann Arbor is familiar enough that Dylan doesn’t really have a problem acclimating overall. He’s happy with his new school. He loves being part of the NTDP. His new bedroom is comfortable, too, but some nights it doesn’t matter how nice everything is, it’s still hard to get to sleep.

His first couple of weeks, he thought it might be adrenaline. Now he figures that sometimes it’s just impossible not to miss being in his bed back home, sharing a house with his family and closer to friends.

Luckily Zach’s been getting to bed later than in the past. Dylan texts him in the dark, usually mundane updates and jokes, but bothering Zach is definitely better than staring at nothing.

“You’re gonna fall asleep in class tomorrow,” Zach writes. 

Dylan’s amusement threads through a sigh. “You, too.”

“I don’t get why my folks think you’re the good student I should look up to.” 

“You’ll yawn your way through class fine,” Dylan sends. He thinks about Zach looking worn, slightly unkempt in a way that Dylan’s pretty sure people who aren’t used to spending all their time with him wouldn't really notice. He’s seen less of Zach so far this year, but Dylan has enough experience that his brain doesn’t have trouble picturing it. “Are you still coming to my game this weekend?”

“Of course. Look for me.”

“Duh.” 

Checking the stands is a habit he can’t shake. His parents and friends can’t always make it to the games, but it doesn’t mean that Dylan doesn’t hope to look up and see familiar faces. Knowing he’ll find Zach there is already a major plus. If Zach and Brad ride down early, Dylan might even be able to get lunch with them and hang out for a while before the game. He has a routine, but he doesn’t mind bending it this once. It’s been weird not having a chunk of his time taken up by Werenskis lately. 

“You have to score for me,” Zach sends. 

“Done. Piece of cake.” Dylan grins at his bright screen, imagining that Zach rolls his eyes at the arrogance. Before he can respond, Dylan follows up with, “I’m excited. I miss you.”

It’ll be the first NTDP game Zach’s had a chance to come to this season. Dylan’s going to remind the guys in the office that he’s coming, too. He knows Zach and his family have to talked to the scouts once already. Having Zach come out and keep the conversation going gets Dylan one step closer to having Zach on the bench with him next year.

Zach writes, “I miss you too.” 

Coming to Ann Arbor also means they might have a chance to talk about things outside of the day-to-day. A second message buzzes on Dylan’s phone like he’s reading Dylan’s train of thought: “I dreamt about you the other day.” 

Dylan types out a few pithy responses but deletes each one before sending it off. He settles on, “Good things? Hopefully I’m less annoying in dreams.”

“About the same. =P”

“Ouch.”

“But you did kiss me again.”

The text comes in so quickly after Dylan hits send that he wonders if Zach started immediately typing it after his first one. He wonders if Zach is nervous, rushing to get the words out before he loses his resolve. Fuck. Dylan’s face feels suddenly warm. He taps at the face of his cell idly. It’s past midnight, but he finds himself staring at Zach’s name on his screen and ultimately dials through and listens to it ring once. 

“Shit, Larkin, my ringer is too loud. I’m supposed to be asleep.”

“Sorry,” Dylan says sheepishly. “It’s not my fault your volume is cranked high. Did your parents come in?”

Zach says, “No, it was in my hand. I got to it right away.”

“Oh, okay. Uh, was it good?”

“The phone blasting like that? _No_.” 

“I meant the dream,” Dylan says. He clears his throat, but it’s not like he can take back asking. 

“That’s why you called?”

Dylan also likes to hear Zach’s voice, but yeah, that was a pretty important prompt. He simply repeats, “Was it okay? That I did that.”

Zach had kissed him back. Dylan’s held on to that in the weeks they’ve spent not touching the subject again. Zach had absolutely opened his mouth enough to reciprocate, but realizing it had startled Dylan so much that he pulled back before he could tell whether it was more reflex or interest. Then he’d had to go.

The good news: Zach responded to Dylan the next time he texted him a goofy picture from his new billet’s house. On the other hand, it’s been a month and a half, and he’s dying to know. 

“Yeah,” Zach says, mirroring the careful way Dylan asked the question.

Dylan exhales in a low, slow release of breath. “Z. If I was there — I would—” 

“I know.” Zach speaks more firmly when he adds, “I want you to.”

Dylan groans. “Fuck,” he whines. “Why am I not there?”

The way Zach laughs eases some of the tension. He says, “I’m coming to you this weekend,” like a promise.

Dylan holds on to that through the rest of the conversation and even after Zach says he really does need to go to bed. Saying goodnight to Zach is the last thing Dylan wants to do, but he lets him end the call and looks toward the ceiling in the darkness. Zach wants him. Dylan bites his lip to dam his smile, but he loses the battle and grins all alone. 

He can’t sleep.

It’s too quiet outside. His mind is moving too fast. There are a ton of small reasons that shouldn’t matter, but they all add up to him being unable to turn off for the night. Over the last few years, Dylan has stopped trying to convince himself that the way that he felt about Zach isn’t constantly expanding, but hearing that he’s not the only one is — he doesn’t know how he’s supposed to think about anything else. Ann Arbor is only an hour or so away, but it’s too far to be spontaneous. Although traffic would be amazing at this time of night.

“Go to bed,” Dylan whispers to himself, wiggling his foot under the blankets restlessly. “Just go to bed.”

He closes his eyes and tries to slowly count to one hundred. Anything to shut off his brain. 

Just an hour away.

Fuck it. 

Dylan throws back his comforter and pulls on pants, a sweater. He layers and carefully walks from his room to the front door. He’s already outside and sliding into the front seat of his car by the time he stops to think about how crazy this is. The sound of the ignition cutting through the nighttime makes him second guess everything, but nobody comes outside. He waits for the heat to warm him up before he pulls off.

For the start of the drive, he thinks about what a terrible idea this is. Zach’s asleep. He’s not even going to answer when Dylan calls. Once he reaches the halfway point, his mind flips over to thinking about Zach lying under his covers. He’s too busy thinking about touching Zach’s face and leaning in or stretching out in Dylan’s back seat together so he can fit his hand over Zach’s waist and keep him close. 

He’s so excited.

He’s right about Zach ignoring his call. Dylan parks across the street from Zach’s house and dials his cell number. It rings and rings, eventually picked up by the voicemail. Dylan texts and has to call two more times, hoping Zach didn't set his phone to silent after the mishap earlier.

“Dyl?” he finally gets. Zach’s voice is rough and disoriented. “Are you okay?”

“Look outside.”

“What?” 

“Just look outside.” He can tell it’s not entirely computing, but he repeats it again without explaining. He steps out of the car and rests his elbows on the roof, heartbeat suddenly racing when he sees the curtains in Zach’s window shift. 

Zach says, “Is that you?”

Dylan grins and waves. “Hey.”

“Are you crazy? What—”

“Can you come down here? I’m freezing, dude.”

“I can’t fucking believe you drove — What time is it?”

Dylan doesn’t mean to laugh, but the sleep in Zach’s voice makes it crack in the middle. He sounds so surprised. It’s past two in the morning, but Dylan’s full of energy. This is the best idea he’s ever had.

“Get out here,” he says. 

“God, hold on. I’m in my underwear.”

“Alright,” Dylan says. “Don’t trip over your pants or anything. I’ll… be here.”

It really is very cold. Zach hangs up, so Dylan tucks his other hand on his coat pocket and waits for him. The neighborhood is so quiet that he keeps expecting others to wake. He holds really still to prevent making any extra noise and watches his breath puff out in front of him. 

He keeps an eye on the front door of Zach’s house, only to be surprised by him coming from around the side. Zach’s messily bundled — a hoodie with a winter vest over and a beanie. His sweats are bunched up around the boots he’s wearing, obviously tired and sluggish as he gets closer and closer. Dylan walks around the other side of the car and reaches out to make contact a little sooner. 

“I can’t believe you drove here,” Zach says for the second time, shaking his head, but he walks right into Dylan’s arms and envelops him in a hug.

Dylan says, “I couldn’t make myself crash.” He noses at Zach’s hoodie, pushing his face into the open space to get at Zach’s neck. “I wanted to see you.”

Being around Zach has always been one of his favorite things, and this feels more intense. Calling this the best hug of his life is over the top, but it’s hard to convince himself it’s wrong right now. He lets the adrenaline make him bold, pressing his mouth to Zach’s skin gently. Just once. Zach hugs him tighter before he pulls back.

“You’re insane,” he says. 

Dylan shrugs. “I like you.”

“You drove all the way out here to wake me up and say hello.”

Dylan brushes Zach’s cheek with the back of his fingers and then cups it, feeling the warmth of Zach’s face against his palm. Zach is smiling at him, something small and amused, still surprised in a way. He doesn’t squirm away when Dylan cranes his head forward, tilting to connect with Zach’s mouth, coaxing his lips apart.

The contrast sticks with Dylan — boxed in by the cool night air and impossibly warm right up close. Zach tugs at Dylan’s hoodie in a way that feels like reflex. He tips his head to the opposite side and gives in, kissing Dylan with an enthusiasm that only feels muted by the hour. The sleepy affection makes warmth bloom low in him, overcome by everything he feels.

Zach sniffs when they break, dragging a knuckle under his nose quickly. His cheeks are redder now, breath still coming out white when he exhales. 

“For that, too,” Dylan says. 

He’s a sentimental person, he knows, but he thinks that this is the most he’s ever loved Zach. He’s stumbled right up to a peak. Dylan wants to stay here, but he’s not sure how to other than leaning in again. Zach makes a soft “mm” sound that Dylan adores.

They stand outside, kissing and kissing until the chill seeps into their clothes too much. Dylan can feel Zach shivering. They’re still reluctant to pull away, diving back in after the first attempt to separate and finally forced to when Dylan loses his footing and has to catch himself against the side of the car.

Chuckling, Zach says, “Careful.”

“That would’ve been embarrassing.” This night’s gone so well so far. “And sitting on my bruised ass the whole way back would’ve sucked.”

“You’re not driving back tonight.”

“I do have class tomorrow.”

“You _can’t_ ,” Zach says. “Then I won’t be able to sleep. I’ll just be freaking out about you dozing off on the road or something.”

Dylan scoffs. “I won’t.”

“I know, because you’re not getting in the car.”

“Well, what am I supposed to do?” As nice as it is to be wanted, people are going to throw a fit if Dylan doesn’t show up for school and to practice. He’s probably going to be in enough trouble for sneaking out as it is if anyone catches him when he gets back to Ann Arbor.

Zach glances over his shoulder. “Um. Come with me? Come inside.”

“Someone’ll notice me in your house.”

“You should’ve thought about this before you drove out here,” Zach says. It feels testy even though the tone of his voice stays mild. He doesn’t let Dylan protest either, taking his hand as he turns and leading him across the street to the side entrance. 

Dylan toes off his shoes as soon as they get inside but carries them up to Zach’s room with him. He’s been in the house hundreds of times, and yet he’s never felt quite this nervous about it. He’s never had to worry about being caught here. He knows it so well that even moving around in the dark with Zach isn’t very disorienting. Dylan’s sort of entertained by it even as he hurries. He’s not afraid of Zach’s parents, but it’s so late. They’d want to know if something was wrong. Driving through Michigan in the middle of the night to kiss Zach now rather than Saturday probably won’t seem as important to them.

“What would your folks say if they saw me here right now?” he asks.

Zach shakes his head. “I don’t even want to think about it.”

He nudges his bedroom door shut behind them and starts tugging off his layers. Dylan does, too, but slower, as it belatedly dawns on him that Zach intends for him to stay here — right. Out of sight. It makes sense, and they’ve had a million sleepovers, but this is the first one since Dylan found out how much he liked pressing their mouths together. 

Zach slides into bed and holds up the blankets for Dylan. “You can set an alarm,” he says as Dylan climbs in after him. “That way you can drive when it’s light out.”

Dylan reaches for his phone and realizes there’s no ideal time for balancing sleep with rising before the rest of the household. “I’m so getting caught in the morning.”

“Probably,” Zach says, but he kisses Dylan’s cheek and stays close as Dylan fiddles with his cell. “You had to be spontaneous.”

Dylan glares, but Zach doesn't look at all shaken. He lifts his chin and aims for Dylan’s mouth this time. Dylan’s… easy. He sinks into the sheets, letting Zach kiss him how he wants while his cell phone slips out of his hand. 

“Did you set it?” Zach asks eventually.

“Oh.” No, Dylan hadn't finished, but he finds his phone again and simply picks an hour that seems reasonable. The day’s going to be a struggle either way.

When he sets the cell aside, illumination gone, Zach turns away. Dylan settles in behind him. For a moment, Dylan’s unsure if he should touch Zach, but he takes a breath and curves his arm over Zach’s middle anyway. Zach wiggles back, letting Dylan push fingers under the hem of his t-shirt.

If he gets caught tomorrow, this is worth it. “Night, Z.”

“Goodnight,” he says and yawns. He’s quiet for a long moment and already so still that Dylan almost thinks he’s dozing off just that fast until he angles his head up. “I’m glad you came.”

He presses his hand over Dylan’s, holding it there. Dylan kisses the nape of his neck, grinning.

**

“Do you need me to do anything? I can come out there, if—”

“No, no, are you nuts?” Zach says. “You have to play. You couldn't come to me anyway.”

Dylan would, though. He’d figure out how to do it if Zach needed, but right now isn't the time to rehash that conversation. “What can I do?”

“I don't know.” Zach sniffles. Dylan hates when anything beyond a movie makes Zach cry, and this is so much bigger. “I’m already working out coming to Michigan before the team.” He sighs. “It’s just hard.”

“Z,” Dylan says. He wishes he could fix this for Zach. “I’m sorry.”

“I’m still gonna see you, right?”

That Dylan has some control over. “Of course. We’ll probably have practice in the morning, but then I’m all yours.”

“Okay. Good. I miss you, you know?”

“You have me. Whatever you need when you're here.”

“Thanks,” Zach says. “See you then?”

“Yeah.” Dylan can't wait. “But you’ll call me if you do need something before that.”

“I promise.”

It’s hard to feel relieved when he knows Zach is hurting, but Dylan appreciates the reassurance. He wishes he could be there to shield him, give him someplace to hide for a while.

The week feels like it passes too slow. It’s hard to focus. Zach keeps him updated about funeral plans and lets Dylan know when he gets to town. Dylan would love to ride out and meet him right away, but he lets Zach spend the time with his family. Their shared grief has to be enough to handle without a cloying boyfriend.

Zach drives into Detroit the next day, and because he’s still ahead of the team’s arrival, he’s waiting in the parking lot when Dylan finishes up at the rink. He texts Dylan that he’s parked in the furthest corner from the main entrance, using his dad’s car.

They spot each other at almost the same time. Dylan can't help smiling as Zach gets out of the driver’s side and leans against the car door. Dylan holds out his arms, looping them around Zach’s neck for the hug.

“Look at my boy,” Dylan says. He leans back to size Zach up. “Did you get taller?”

“It hasn't been _that_ long since you've seen me,” Zach says, scoffing.

“It feels like it.” 

They've been spoiled most of their lives. Even when they played different programs, they could still go to each other’s games. Dylan missed Zach while he played for Little Caesars, but he also never went more than two weeks without seeing him. There were still a ton of off-day adventures.

“Are you avoiding the reporters?” Dylan asks. He steps back, adjusting his bag on his shoulder. “Ours are pretty nice.”

Zach says, “I talked to a couple on the phone already. Columbus’ people, too. And I told the team I’d do availability tomorrow. I’m, I wanted a few hours.” 

“Little break?” 

“Yeah.”

“Makes sense.” Dylan nudges Zach’s waist. “How was the funeral?”

Zach breathes in deep, considering. “It was good. Really sad and shitty to have to do, but my family put together a nice set-up.”

Dylan says, “I’m sorry. I wish I could've been there.” He always liked Zach’s grandpa. 

“I’m kind of glad you weren't. It would've been great to see you sooner, but a few days in all of that nonstop is…” Zach says it like he can't even contain it all. “I’m happy to see you.”

They're technically out in the open, but Dylan feels secure enough in the relative quiet to kiss Zach’s face. He plants a second one closer to Zach’s mouth, and Zach hums as he exhales, the sound wounded and small. 

Dylan reaches for his hand, holding on as best he can with Zach wearing gloves. “Are you hungry? We don't have to stand around out here.”

“ _Yes_ ,” Zach says. “I’m starving. Let’s go. You don’t need to worry about your car, right?”

“I got a ride since you said you were coming.” Dylan tosses his bag in the back seat and walks around to the passenger’s side. “Do you need to check in at the hotel?”

Shaking his head, Zach says, “Nope. I room with Josh, so he’ll grab the keys. Tell me where we’re headed.”

They get food closer to Dylan’s place than the hotel where the team’s staying. If Zach doesn’t have to be anywhere specific, Dylan plans to be a little selfish. Zach hasn’t seen his place yet. It felt weird to try to bring him home last season while Dylan was still getting to know Luke and Riley. He spent his off days driving back to U Mich instead, blasting the heat and speeding during late hours. It was fine because the rest of Dewey house could hang out, too. He liked escaping back into the college rhythm, laughing with the boys or suffering their chirps any time they caught him and Zach making out in a hallway.

“Niko wants selfies, by the way,” he says while they’re eating. 

Zach drags french fries through ketchup and smirks. “He’s worse than Brad sometimes.” 

“It sucks that we don’t have enough extra hours to go waste over there.” 

They could, technically, but Dylan wants to get as much quality alone time as he can. They really only have today. He knows most of Zach’s extended family are coming to the game tomorrow. Dylan will be lucky to get even another five minutes then.

“Next time,” Zach says and nudges his foot against Dylan’s ankle. He leaves it there, both of them moving slightly at random intervals, tiny reminders that they’re close enough to touch for a change. 

It’s a short trip to Dylan’s house afterward. He’s really thankful that they didn’t have to go to the hotel once Zach pulls up in front and parks. 

“This one is it, right?” he asks. Dylan nods, and Zach whistles. “It seems awesome. Look at you.”

“It’s just a rental, obviously.” Dylan shrugs as he grabs his bag. 

“Still,” Zach says and slings an arm around Dylan’s shoulders when he can. Dylan feels weighed down on both sides between his gear and Zach, but he likes this — walking up the pathway with the guy he’s most often pictured bringing home to a place that’s his own. Dylan’s been hoping for this moment for more than a year.

Letting Zach step inside first gives Dylan a chance to watch him explore. He looks around, up and down the walls. Zach pulls off his gloves and trails fingers along the few pictures they have hanging over the wall. His hand makes a soft shushing sound as he drags it over the couch in the living room. Dylan falls back another pace and takes it all in, blinking to try to take a mental snapshot — Zach looking through the DVDs they left out, Zach in his house. Just Zach. 

“That’s Anthony’s room, then Luke. I don’t know when they’re coming back,” Dylan says. He gives Zach a brief tour. It’s a three-bedroom, but it isn’t huge. “My bedroom’s this way.”

“Whoa, your fingers are freezing,” Zach says when Dylan links their hands. Dylan doesn’t actually say he needs Zach to warm him up, but he’s pretty sure Zach gets the implication from the way he moves his eyebrows. Zach snorts. “Shut up.”

“Whatever you just thought is all you,” Dylan says as innocently as he can. Zach makes a gagging sound, but he brings his other hand over Dylan’s like he really wants to try to give his fingers extra heat.

Dylan, for the record, cleaned his room in hopes that Zach would be able to come by. He doesn’t announce it when they walk in, but he feels rewarded when Zach says, “Oh my god, did you make your bed for me?”

Laughing, Dylan says, “Fuck you, yes. Tell me I did a good job.”

“You did,” Zach says. He starts to work his coat off, staring in awe. “It’s so neat in here.”

He’s glad he gets the approval, because he immediately tosses everything aside at random to get to Zach again. He’s been thinking ahead to kissing him hello for days. Zach grins into it, making muffled noises about how Dylan is ruining the hard work already. 

“I don’t care,” Dylan says, pushing Zach to the bed. 

They’re just coats and shoes. Chasing the heat of Zach’s mouth is way more important. Zach quickly abandons his concern in the face of making out. His hands find their way under Dylan’s clothes, rubbing over his spine. Dylan’s become an expert at kissing Zach, persuading him to melt into sheets. Zach has nearly perfected not letting things overwhelm him if he has a task to focus on, but Dylan knows where he collects his stress. He likes easing it out of him when he has Zach caught like this, crowded by Dylan and preoccupied with nothing else. 

Zach leaves his eyes closed for a couple moments after Dylan lifts to let him breathe. His eyelids flutter so slowly when he finally opens them. Dazed. 

“You look so good here,” Dylan says, airier than he intends. They’re the only ones in the house right now. There’s no need to be quiet, but he likes the chance to be careful with Zach. 

Groaning, Zach says, “Is this the part of the day where you just stare at me?”

“You have to be used to it by now,” Dylan says, but they work their way up the bed, stretching out more. 

Zach asks about how it’s been different living with Riley gone and Anthony moving in this season. Dylan asks about the rest of Zach’s family, and Zach says, “Oh, shit, I didn’t tell you about Brad’s weird love triangle. Or quad — that’s for four, right? There’s another guy involved.” Dylan bursts into laughter while Zach recounts how Brad accidentally might be dating two people at the same time, or three if he counts the dude. “Him I think Brad messed around with while they were drunk. He surprised himself.”

“Does he want to hook up with him again?” Dylan asks.

“I don’t know. I guess that’s why it’s complicated.” Zach sucks on his teeth, then says, “He asked me how I knew I was into guys.”

Dylan can’t believe any of this. “Big Brad’s thinking about joining the team, holy shit.” When he looks over, Zach’s smiling, too. “Younger brother has to give the big brother advice all of a sudden. What did you tell him?”

Shrugging, Zach says, “I wasn’t sure what to say. I never had to think about it. It was different.” 

“Really?”

“I got it early on that I had crushes on guys.” Zach licks his lips and furrows his brow. “What was harder for me was — uh, you. Like was I thinking about risking our friendship because I knew you the best, or was there really something to us?”

Dylan shifts to kiss Zach’s forehead. “There was. For me, the whole time.”

“You can’t say that.” Zach starts blushing, and it’s amazing. “We were kids.”

“You said you knew you liked dudes as a kid!” Dylan won’t stand for this hypocrisy. “I knew about you. Maybe not exactly this, but you were — I thought about you all the time. I had to be around you.”

“Stop,” Zach says, looking away. 

Dylan lets him only because his cell phone keeps buzzing in his pocket. He finally pulls it out to check his messages. There are a few he can deal with later, but he opens Niko’s and says, “Look,” to Zach, “he’s on top of it.”

Zach reads the texts asking Dylan if he and Zach met up or not. “Proof of life!” Niko’s sent, and Zach presses at Dylan’s screen until he opens the camera. They take two photos and send them back. Dylan angles toward Zach and kisses him for a third photo. It’s a little blurry when he takes a moment to check the result, but he thinks it’s a keeper anyway.

“That one’s for me,” he says. 

Zach makes a face, skeptical, but he opts to move in for another kiss rather than speak. Dylan’s happy to oblige. Zach touches his face, smooths a hand over his neck and presses the pads of his fingers into Dylan’s skin. Dylan loves the small points of pressure, another bit of evidence that he gets Zach back for a while. A few dreamy, perfect hours. He swipes his tongue against Zach’s lip, licking into his mouth and hitching a leg over Zach’s to keep their bodies pressed together. 

Kissing Zach’s cheek and tasting salt makes him pause. Zach takes in a shaky breath, and Dylan asks, “What’s wrong? What’d I do?” 

“Nothing.” Zach wipes his face, his eyes. He isn’t really crying, but his eyes are red.

“Tell me.”

Sniffing, Zach says, “I was thinking about my granddad again.” He scoots down enough to bury his face against Dylan’s collar. “How we’re gonna miss him. He won’t get to be at the Joe tomorrow. Both my grandparents — how much they cared about each other. They were together for a long time, and now. It’s.” He huffs out a breath and hugs Dylan tighter. “I love you _so_ much.” 

“Z.” Dylan tilts his head down, tucking his face into Zach’s hair. 

“Sorry. I promise I don’t feel as all over the place as it seems.”

“I don’t mind. You’re allowed.” Dylan meant it when he said he’d do whatever Zach needed. “Come back up here, though.”

Zach does eventually. He looks okay, but Dylan still kisses his forehead and finds his hand to give him an anchor. Zach presses into the affection, giving Dylan more access. “I just — Dylan.”

“Tell me what you want,” Dylan says. “Anything.” 

He kisses Zach’s face again, reassuring. Zach starts to squirm, groaning so softly that it crackles. When he gets impatient, he presses their mouths together again on his own and nudges at Dylan’s shoulder, pushing him onto his back. 

They’ve had really emotional sex before. Dylan doesn’t feel out of his element, but the rush of protectiveness whipping through him still bowls him over. He always wants Zach to feel loved and safe, but it’s turned up to eleven with so much time between visits. Their clothes are annoying. Dylan can’t wriggle out of his pants fast enough, and clearing Zach’s shirt over his head last is a small victory. Dylan smooths his hand down his side and over his ass, encouraging Zach to rock against him until they’re both hard and panting. 

Dylan has to get up to fetch lube. “Hold on,” he says. “Give me one second.”

Zach fans out on the bed in his absence and exhales in a huge, audible breath and pushes his toes out. He stretches, stretches and then releases all at once, languid and quiet. Dylan keeps glancing over his shoulder to watch him. He looks so comfortable, even though it’s his first time in this room. Dylan wants that to always be true, that wherever he is, Zach feels like he can call the space his, too.

Dylan looked at rings once, when he was 16. He wandered into a store at the mall while waiting for Sonny to use the bathroom, and he’d had an idea — the beginnings of an idea. He didn't buy anything. They had only been dating for real for a couple months, and they were still in separate cities. It was barely a thought, but it hasn't left him in four years.

It’s on his mind as he closes his door all the way before going back to the bed. It stays with him as Zach spreads his thighs to accommodate Dylan, tipping his head back and moaning airily when Dylan presses a wet finger past his rim. More helpless sounds escape when Dylan works up to two and three. 

“Dyl,” Zach breathes, working his hips, and Dylan kisses him to swallow the pleas spilling out. 

Fucking Zach skyrocketed up the list of Dylan’s favorite things after their first time. The wet sound of working him open and the way he whimpers, more shameless than he is anywhere else — all of it is still intoxicating. 

Zach hooks his arm over Dylan, catching him around his neck and shoulder. “Fuck me,” he pants. “I need, um. It’s enough.”

Dylan doesn’t make him wait. He drags his fingers out and strokes himself. Lube smears over Zach’s thighs as Dylan presses his legs back, moving forward on his knees to rub the head against Zach’s skin and push. 

The slippery heat is incredible around his cock. Dylan revels in seeing himself thrust in and shift back. Zach moans his name again, urgent pleas for more, for something he can’t really put into words. Dylan adores looking at him this way, full and needy. He fucks Zach in longer strokes, watching the way he gnaws on his bottom lip as the blush spreads down his chest.

He folds Zach more to reach his mouth. Zach whines into the kisses, not quite a sob but like everything he’s been feeling today crests over him again. His pushes his hand in Dylan’s hair, tight and almost pulling. 

“I love you, too,” Dylan says. “Listening?”

Zach nods. It isn’t the first time Dylan’s said it, but he needs to make sure Zach knows. Whether he’s falling apart or excited about tomorrow, or this messy combination in between when real life crashes against his dreams. 

He lets Zach flip them when he feels like it. Zach sits back on Dylan’s cock and picks up speed, fucking himself. Dylan’s toes curl in the sheets, scrabbling for leverage even though he doesn’t mind losing control. He just — fuck, he loves how Zach feels. 

“Z, I’m,” he tries, and Zach clenches around him. He works his hips harder, murmuring that it’s okay.

“You should,” he says. 

Dylan doesn’t fight off his orgasm. His back arches, and Zach stops bouncing to roll his hips, like he can drag the come out of Dylan’s body. Dylan feels sweaty and shattered, and it’s great. He’s happy to lie limp like he’s been broken down into helpless pieces. 

He reaches down to jerk Zach off, but a better idea flashes in his mind and he says, “Up. Come on.”

Zach gets the hint, knee walking his way up to Dylan’s face. Dylan drops his jaw, swallowing around Zach’s cock and using how relaxed he is to let Zach pump forward. He fucks Dylan’s mouth cautiously, both of them getting the right feel until Dylan closes his eyes and lets Zach take what he needs. 

He pulls out when he finishes, come dripping onto Dylan’s lips. Dylan licks it away and chases the head of Zach’s cock, sucking again as he gropes Zach’s ass, a finger playing with him where he’s still slick and used. He doesn’t stop until Zach hisses because he’s had too much. Dylan can feel his legs shaking. 

Zach hunches down to kiss Dylan, unabashed. Even when he goes quiet again, the tremors haven’t stopped snaking through his body. Dylan rolls back on top. Zach pulls at his hair again, the dull near-pain of it strangely grounding as they both find their way back down, settling into their skin.

Dylan’s going to need to do laundry now. All of his hard work to clean is officially ruined, but this is the best possible cause. He kisses Zach’s jaw, down to his neck and then retraces the path to find where he started. Zach’s pulling gives way to soothing strokes, his fingers rubbing against Dylan’s scalp.

“I left you four tickets for tomorrow,” Dylan says. 

He feels Zach’s chest move with laughter more than he hears anything. “I don’t know if that’s gonna be enough.”

“No.” The whole city is going to come see Zach — everyone who’s ever known him. Zach is the kind of guy someone meets and wants to be there for forever. “I at least wanted to make sure your mom and dad had good seats.” He snorts. “Or Brad and his three dates.” 

Zach laughs louder the second time. “I hope he brings them all. Fuck, just to see.” 

“It’s such a Brad accident.” Dylan flops out, resting his head on Zach’s chest. Zach’s heartbeat thumps right below his ear, steadying. “I wanted to do something. Help out.”

“No, it does. You do,” Zach says. “Thank you.”

Dylan picks his way across Zach’s ribs and thinks about how many times he’s gotten to lie exactly like this, how he hopes it repeats indefinitely. It’s probably something he should tell Zach, but he’s not yet sure how to make it sound right. Maybe soon. He thinks they’re circling around the same thing. They have a good track record for eventually figuring out how to click it all together.

He lies there until he feels like he might fall asleep and instead says they should shower. “Better not to be covered in come when my teammates get home.”

“When you put it like that,” Zach says and scrunches his face.

Dylan giggles at him and smacks his ass once. The truth is — if he gets too content, he won’t let Zach leave. It’s better to try to get his fill on kisses and groans under the spray, Zach leaning into him and letting Dylan spread his cheeks, make sure the water rinses everything away. 

They wash up and help dry each other off. Zach leaves his towel on the floor in Dylan’s bathroom, and Dylan asks, “Now who’s the slob?”

Zach shows all of his teeth in the most exaggerated smile Dylan’s ever seen. “I’m trying to fit in with how you do things.” 

“God,” Dylan says. He gives Zach a face wash to stop himself from repeating that he loves him about five more times.

Anthony’s home when Zach has all his stuff together and Dylan walks him into the living room. “Hi!” he says, sitting upon the couch. He turns down the TV. “This is your guy.”

“Hey, Anthony, this is Zach. Zach, Anthony,” Dylan says. 

Zach reaches out to shake his hands. “Yeah, we actually met really quick once. After one of the Griffins games.”

“Oh — ohhh, yeah, wait, I remember.” Anthony shakes his head. “Sorry about that. Good to see you. Dylan doesn’t shut up about how you’re doing.”

Dylan scoffs, even though it’s absolutely true, and he’s not ashamed. Zach smirks at him and chats for a couple minutes. Eventually he does have to excuse himself. “I should get back before the team thinks I forgot them.”

“Of course. Sorry to stop you,” Anthony says. “See you out there tomorrow.”

Zach waves, and Dylan follows him to the front door. He asks, “You don’t need help getting back, do you?”

“I think I know my way around pretty well,” Zach says, rolling his eyes. 

“Alright.” Dylan kisses his cheek. “Let me know when you make it, though.”

“Mhm.” Zach doesn’t let him get away, following up with a better kiss. They make it chaste with Anthony still nearby, only lips, but Dylan still wishes he could drag Zach back to his room. Zach sighs. “Thanks for lunch. And putting up with me. Everything.”

“Always.” Dylan brings him in for a hug. “You sure you don’t need anything else?” 

“I’ll be okay.” He kisses the corner of Dylan’s mouth quickly, one last time. “Bye.”

Dylan opens the door for him and watches him walk out to the street. “Don’t forget to text me.”

Zach holds up his thumb in acknowledgment. Dylan leans in the doorway and watches until Zach starts the car and pulls away from the curb. 

He pushes Anthony’s legs over on the couch after, taking half the space. “What are you watching?”

“I couldn’t even tell you. It was on when I flipped on the TV, and I got sucked into it,” Anthony says. 

It’s some comedy Dylan doesn’t recognize. From the clothes and cars, he guesses it might be early ‘90s, but it doesn’t really matter. He’s down to be distracted by anything that helps him avoid cleaning his room again. 

Dylan’s phone buzzes half an hour later, while Anthony’s channel surfing to find a movie they both know. It’s a text from Zach that simply says, “In my hotel room. =)”

“Glad you made it,” Dylan sends.

“I still smell like your soap.”

Dylan leaves the couch and heads into the kitchen. He dials Zach and looks through the fridge while it rings. As soon as Zach answers, Dylan says, “So, you smell really good.” 

Zach huffs, amused. “I guess so. But thinking about your shower isn’t great when I’m supposed to go out with the boys soon.”

Dylan isn’t actually hungry again yet, so he grabs the box of cookies on the counter. “Soon as in now? Do you need me to let you go?” 

“No, I can talk,” Zach says. “You can have a few minutes.”

**Works inspired by this one:**

  * [[Podfic] star seven four](https://archiveofourown.org/works/11599824) by [ofjustimagine](https://archiveofourown.org/users/ofjustimagine/pseuds/ofjustimagine)




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